


How Am I Supposed...

by Menecairiel



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 20:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13795359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menecairiel/pseuds/Menecairiel
Summary: Post Winter-Soldier, slight AU. Winter Soldier is in the Avenger's custody and Steve Rogers is his jailer. It has given Bucky Barnes a lot of time to think...





	How Am I Supposed...

Bucky Barnes frowned as he sat on the bed, hands folded in front of him, as if he was praying. But he wasn't. He was doing what he had been doing every single day since he had been put inside this room. He was reliving the past. Moment by moment. It had started with dreams. Himself, Bucky...then it had been the kills he had done as Winter Soldier. There was a lot to relive and Bucky did that every second he was alone. Because he deserved to, because there was nothing else to do...because he was trying to find who he was. Who he was now. The path to redemption was a rocky path and he had a lot of penance to do. Even stuck here, in the room, at the Avengers compound, he was…left alone. It was better than a holding cell. It had been where he had started, something strapped to his arm to keep it from working. Tony Stark had made sure of it, eyes narrowed, oddly cold. Steve had been there, chest puffed out in anger. Wilson, the Falcon, had watched as well, a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder even as the Black Widow stood over Bucky and talked. First in Russian. Then English. Depending on what Bucky had answered.  
  
It had taken time for him to get this room. A lot of trust. They had let him use his arm again. But only after Barton had muttered something angrily that Bucky hadn’t quite caught. So here he was. In a bare room with a bed, a chair and a desk. A few books had been given to him but Bucky hadn’t opened them yet. Instead he had remained sitting on the bed, trying to get his memories in order. He didn’t talk to the others. Only to Steve, the one man who came in with the food. And those sad, blue eyes, watching him as if it broke his heart to see Bucky like that. In the beginning, it had been hard.  
  
But Bucky Barnes had realised that it was all about himself. About his path to redemption. He was Winter Soldier. And he was Bucky Barnes. Merging the two had made him…  
  
What? Human? Something else?  
  
For him it was like accessing a file. Opening a book. He would tap into the memories of skill and knowledge and shut it out when it made bile rise in his throat. When he couldn’t face it. But like a sore bruise, he would prod it, test it out, try it on himself. Because what he felt? He deserved it. He deserved it all.  
  
He heard the movement outside his door and ran his hands through his hair to tame in, shifting, looking at the door. It must be lunch time. He ran a hand over his eyes, his flesh one, but harshly. Clearing his min as much as he could.  
  
Steve opened the door, sliding in with the lunch tray. He watched him for a long moment, swallowing his sadness back. "Hey, Buck," he said quietly, moving to set the lunch down for him. "Peanut butter and jelly sandwich...and soda," he said quietly.  
  
Bucky lowered his hand as he watched him, taking a deeper breath. "Steve," he smiled gently, watching the food before nodding. "Generous on the peanut?"  
  
"How you like it," Steve promised with a small smile, watching him with gentle, sad eyes. He didn't want to keep him locked up in the room. The others insisted though. Since he'd been handed into the Avengers custody, he'd had to serve as a jailor. Even though he'd fought every step of the way, so relieved to have him back, but he'd decided if he had to have a jailor, he'd rather it was him.  
  
Bucky nodded as he watched him before he smiled, meaning it. "Don't look so sad, Steve. Doesn't suit that pretty face..." he reached for the sandwich and took a bite. Salty peanut, sweet grape jelly, soft bread that reminded him of…what? Nothing like the sandwiches they had eaten as kids. Bread was all white and soft, a chemically aftertaste he couldn’t place. Sliced bread. Best thing since.  
  
Steve smiled gently, about to reply but thought better of it. "Did I make it right?" he asked quietly.  
  
Bucky nodded, moaning as he swallowed. "It's perfect..." he said before meeting his eyes again, nodding. "You got time to join me?" He tried to keep the hope out of his voice. Steve was an Avenger, he was busy. He did not want to weigh him down, to keep him from important work.  
  
Steve nodded with a small smile, letting out a breath. "As long as you want me."  
  
Bucky smiled at that before he took another bite, watching him. "I was remembering the last evening we spent before I shipped out." He spoke around the mouthful of food, swallowing it down. Not good manners. But Bucky Barnes had always been a bit rough around the edges unless his Ma was around to smack him around the head for it.   
  
Steve watched him with surprise, looking over him as he took a breath. "You still remember it?" he asked quietly. He knew it would seem like longer to Bucky.  
  
Bucky nodded as he watched him, smiling warmly at the memory. "I do. It...was a day I was putting into my memory. We saw Howard Stark's car." He looked away, taking a deeper breath at just remembering it. He had been scared. He had been nervous. He had tried not to think about the trip he was going to go on. New York to London, then into battle. And he had tried not to think about it at all. All he had wanted was Steve, but the only way to get Steve out had been to pressure him. A double date had been his own idea, because if there was a lonely dame involved Steve would feel obliged to come. And he had. Of course, Bucky had turned around and Steve had been gone and Bucky had felt his heart sink through the very ground. His best friend. Ditching him to enlist, to try yet again. He had hidden it behind jokes and smiles. But he had felt abandoned. If it was the last time he would ever see Steve, then why would Steve just…bail? He pushed those emotions aside, forcing the smile to remain. It was oddly easy.  
  
"We saw it not hover," Steve chuckled, watching him with warm eyes. "I sometimes think about telling Tony about that..."  
  
Bucky smiled at that before the smile faded, a frown coming to him. "I..." he let out a soft breath. "Howard, he was...he was a good man, wasn't he?" The words came out careful, as if saying it aloud would wake up a ghost.   
  
"Mostly," Steve said quietly, searching his face. "Where it counted. He had his...vices."  
  
Bucky nodded before he finished eating, reaching for the soda and taking a gulp of it. "I keep dreaming about him."  
  
"What do you dream?" Steve asked quietly, watching him with concern.  
  
"Killing him," Bucky said as he met his eyes, holding them. "And his wife." Saying it cemented the memory in his mind. The car. Taking a hold of Howard. Being recognised. And still beating him to death. The woman, already injured. So scared, so sad. The skin of her throat so soft under his hand, as he tightened it, the resistance. How he could feel her pulse speed up and then slow down, until it stopped. He had killed her. He had killed them both.   
  
Steve watched him with sadness, letting out a shaking breath. He reached out, his hand gently stroking his hair.  
  
Bucky closed his eyes, frowning as he swallowed. "I did it. I know I did it," he whispered before he opened his eyes to watch him. "Steve..." the word was said as a prayer, as a plea. Steve had always known best, he was the one with the morals, who kept Bucky from sinking into sin.  
  
Steve searched his eyes, touching his cheek gently. "Bucky...it wasn't you...it was the weapon that turned you into."  
  
Bucky smiled weakly as he touched his hand, caressing it. "I remember as if it was me. But...it's difficult to explain. I did as I was ordered because I had no choice. But it was still me. Whenever they'd...speak the words...I'd fight. Because I didn't want to be that."  
  
"That's what matters," Steve whispered, searching his eyes as he rested his hand on his arm.  
  
Bucky met his eyes before he swallowed, watching him. "Does it though? If those words are spoken again..." And there was the real fear. The read problem, why he never argued about being locked up in this room. Because he was still a danger and now he was terrified that James Buchanan Barnes would be wiped away by those words and the empty killer known as Winter Soldier would be all that was left.  
  
"No one knows the words to say. This is...this is you, Bucky, I know it. I feel it," Steve reached to take his hand, frowning.  
  
Bucky let out a breath. He wasn't so sure...but Steve needed to think so. "Thank you, Steve."  
  
Steve searched his features, holding his breath. "You remember that time? When you'd been...strange all day? And I kept trying to make you stay? And then you got sick the next day..."  
  
Bucky watched him before smiling gently. "I was really poorly...I know, because you got the doctor to visit." It had been the only time that Bucky had gotten ill and not Steve. Bucky had ignored the symptoms, pushed them aside. He had tried to get to work. He had worked and then gotten worse and he couldn’t even remember half of it. Fever. It had been a bad fever.  
  
"I knew you were sick before you did," Steve whispered, searching his eyes. "Sometimes, I know you better than you do."  
  
Bucky swallowed as he watched him, searching his eyes for a moment before looking down. "I just don't feel it," he said softly. "Like myself right now."  
  
"That's okay," Steve whispered, leaning closer, wrapping his arm around his shoulders to let him rest against him. "There's time now.”  
  
Bucky let out a breath as he wrapped his arms around him, swallowing. "I think so," he said softly before he smiled. "Feels...good to have you here." It was the truth. And holding Steve close, smelling him…it felt like old times. Well. Howling Commandos old times, as Steve was built like a brick shithouse now.  
  
Steve let out a breath of relief at being able to hold him, his arms wrapped tight around him as he stroked up his back and into his hair. "You have no idea how good it is to have you."  
  
Bucky let out a shaky breath at the touch, nodding weakly. "You've changed, Steve. A lot." And he let himself accept it, feel it. They had both changed. It wasn’t all bad. Because he had Steve and Steve was healthy.   
  
"Several inches worth," Steve chuckled softly, holding his eyes fondly.  
  
Bucky nodded before touching his shoulders. "Still strange. How strong you are...physically..." he squeezed gently, chuckling at the words. Yep. Brick shithouse.  
  
"Probably on a par with you," Steve said softly, watching with a small smile. "You felt it..."  
  
Bucky watched him for a long moment, swallowing before touching his cheek. He smiled tenderly, his eyes warm. "You're beautiful," he said quietly, the words escaping before he could stop them. Sappy words. Words that he had always wanted to say but never dared to.  
  
Steve watched him with surprise, holding his breath, shaking his head with a shy smile. "I've never been that."  
  
"You were always that," Bucky said and smiled, reaching to rough his hair up, but stopping when he realised he was using the metal hand.  
  
Steve smiled softly at the familiar gesture, reaching to touch the metal hand, guiding it to his head.  
  
Bucky swallowed as he stroked gently as he held his eyes. "Sorry," he whispered softly.  
  
"Don't be," Steve said quietly, shaking his head with a frown, leaning into it. "I missed that," he said quietly.  
  
Bucky smiled gently as he held his eyes for a long moment before he nodded. "Missed you too, Steve. All about you."  
  
"I'm just glad you remember," Steve admitted, shaking his head with a whisper as he licked his lips.  
  
"I am too," Bucky said and looked down, to Steve's feet, chuckling softly. "No newspaper."  
  
"Not anymore," Steve chuckled softly, wriggling his toes as he took a breath. "Still doesn't mean I can find comfortable shoes though."  
  
"Too big now?" Bucky asked as he watched him, his eyes gentle as he watched Steve's feet.  
  
Steve nodded with a chuckle, watching him with warmth. "And it's a good job they've invented stretchier clothes..."  
  
"You need it. But then again...tailored shirts..." Bucky chuckled before looking at him, reaching to touch his chest, feeling the muscle. Yes. Strong. Healthy. His hand went to his heart, feeling the steady beat, the even breaths. This was not just a strong body, it was a healthy one.  
  
"Trying to save up for a real place at home," Steve chuckled, shaking his head, letting him feel and learn him.  
  
Bucky frowned as he stroked lightly, just feeling before he touched his throat. "You're strong. So strong. Captain America."  
  
"Steve," Steve said quietly, shaking his head with a frown. "Just...Steve."  
  
Bucky watched him for a long moment before he smiled gently. "Silly kid from Brooklyn."  
  
"I think that's still what I am," Steve whispered with a soft laugh, holding his eyes, his hand going to the long hair.  
  
Bucky smiled as he leant into the hand, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'd follow you," he whispered softly.

"Save me from the thugs?" Steve whispered with a frown, letting out a long breath.

Bucky met his eyes before he swallowing. "Save you from anything," he whispered softly. Even if what he needed to save him from was Winter Soldier.


End file.
